


What the Heart Wants

by sparrellow (orphan_account)



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Childhood Friends, Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Party, Romance, eat my heart out fanfic gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23865922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sparrellow
Summary: “Don’t break my heart again, Rin Kagamine.”— childhood friends, and the art of growing up.
Relationships: Hatsune Miku/Kaito, Kagamine Len/Kagamine Rin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	What the Heart Wants

**Author's Note:**

> if this is hard to read it's because I wrote it a) while slightly under the influence of alcohol, and b) while half-asleep.  
> yes I am a functional adult in isolation. :)
> 
> I don't even LIKE angst but I was in the mood for it. re-read too many old unfinished fanfics yesterday that will never be updated by ancient rinlen authors, felt a bit mad LMAO. I really shouldn't be though, I am literally one of those authors who never finishes things so :3c 
> 
> mostly rinlen centric, but you know, a bit of kaimiku to spice things up.  
> OH and they are like, 22/23 yrs old in this fic.

Rin was not much of a party-goer. She preferred the comfort of the couch and TV in her living room, watching sad love stories and stuffing her face with _Happy Turn_ rice crackers. At least there, she could hear her own thoughts.

But Miku was having a party. A _special_ party. A reunion party, of sorts. And as much as she didn’t want to go, she felt obliged to for the sake of their friendship.

So there she was, standing in the corner of the room, hiding behind a glass of lemon _chu-hai_. It was busy, full of familiar faces she didn’t want to see. She hadn’t even really _thought_ much about what kind of situation she’d landed herself in until a certain blonde boy— _man_ , he’s a _man_ , Rin—came striding into the room like a celebrity guest-appearance on a TV show.

His smile was dazzling, and enough to turn her world upside-down.

Immediately she made a mad dash for Miku, who was standing on the other side of the room, making small talk with some of her guests. Rin ducked behind her like a shield, praying she hadn’t just caught _You Know Who’s_ attention.

“Rin, what are you doing?” Miku asked with a frown, glancing over her shoulder at her.

Rin shushed her. “I’m _hiding_ ,” she said.

“Hiding from who?”

“ _Him_.” She hoped she wouldn’t have to drop anymore hints to give away who she was talking about.

Miku gave her a clueless look, before scanning the room. Her gaze fell on _Him_ , the man, and her eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “You’re _still_ not over Len?”

Rin puffed out her cheeks. “It’s not _that_ , I’m—”

“Rin,” Miku said, turning to face her. She grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her lightly. “You know, maybe it’s time you _adult up_ and take initiative. You can’t run away from him forever. And I’m _not_ going to be _your_ bodyguard at _my_ party.” Her tone was firm, unsaid words heard between the lines: _And that’s final._

With that, Miku whipped around and strolled off to greet said person.

Rin ducked back behind a pot plant nearby, her heart racing. _Easier said than done_ , she thought with a frown. It was maybe childish of her, in retrospect—but she hadn’t grown up still, even after all these years.

They were childhood friends, after all, and that part of her life was filled with fond memories of him; the kind that spread through her chest with a warm, bubbling sensation. But childhood was long gone, and they’d long grown apart, and Len had changed in more ways than one.

He wasn’t that scrawny little kid anymore.

Rin stared down into her glass, watching as bubbles rose from the bottom, one by one.

It wasn’t always all sunshine and roses. When they’d grown up enough, enough for her to finally realise that _oh no, I might kind of like him_ , that was when their relationship slowly began to change. Like the Earth orbiting the Sun—they were stuck in a gravitational pull, sometimes close, sometimes far, going around in circles. He fell in love with another girl, and that was when she thought:

_I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore._

How it’d hurt her to cut him off and build a wall between them, how it’d tore her apart—how it’d tore _him_ apart. There was this knot of guilt in the pit of her stomach. A knot of guilt as he had grabbed her hand one afternoon and asked, _Why? Why have you been so distant?_

Rin had never given him an answer.

They hadn’t talked since. It’d been at least five years.

The glass almost went flying from her hand as someone touched her elbow, shaking her from her thoughts. It was Kaito.

Her shoulders sagged with relief.

“Sorry—sorry,” he apologised, noticing he’d startled her. That didn’t stop him from giving her a look of concern. “What are you doing behind the pot plant, Rin?”

Rin’s cheeks burned. “Hiding,” she mumbled.

Kaito quirked an eyebrow. “Why?”

Not giving an answer, she simply led his gaze to Miku and Len chatting idly in the centre of the room. 

“Oh.” His lips thinned, eyebrows furrowing, creating a crease in his forehead. “You… still haven’t made amends?”

Rin’s thumb drew patterns in the condensation of her cup. Her eyes were glued to the floor. “No.”

Kaito was a lot more _understanding_ than Miku. Forgiving, somewhat. He was like an older brother, but the nice kind, the kind that you would go to for advice. His gentleness was his whole appeal.

“Maybe you should,” he suggested, his lips curving in somewhat of a hopeful smile. “You know, it’s been a while, Rin. He might… I’m sure he would like to talk to you.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. 

He stared at her, waiting for her to continue. Waiting for her to explain why she couldn’t do seemingly the simplest thing in the world.

She kept talking. “I just can’t. It’s so hard. _How_ could I just walk up to him and talk to him like nothing ever happened—it left a hole in me. Maybe it left a hole in him, too.”

Kaito looked back at Len, across the room, chuckling at something Miku said. He frowned in thought. “You don’t have to do that,” he said, reaching up to pat her on the head. “You don’t have to do anything, really. But you shouldn’t hide behind the pot plant all night. Because then nothing will happen at all.”

He pulled his hand away and strolled off, the cold air hitting the top of Rin’s head like a slap to the face.

Slowly, slowly, she took his advice.

* * *

When Len had spotted her on the couch later that evening, he sauntered over with a guarded expression. 

Rin had been staring blankly at the TV screen, considering calling it a night at 9pm, when she sensed his gaze and tore her eyes away to meet his. A chill ran up her spine, and in an attempt not to flee the situation, she downed her entire drink in one go.

She figured she didn’t trust her sober self as much to handle the interaction.

He took a seat near her—leaving enough space for another body to sit in between them, had someone want to—and leant back in the chair, folding one leg up to rest on his thigh. Her hand shook as she put the glass down on the table, and it clattered against the lacquered wood before letting it go.

A silence that was enough to drive any person towards insanity stretched between them. Rin knew he was probably finding the words he wanted to say—calculated, well-rehearsed—he was that kind of person. He never said anything without thinking about it first; especially not in this kind of situation.

Her eyes bore holes into her kneecaps as she waited, and waited, and waited.

Eventually, Len cleared his throat. She almost jumped out of her skin. “So,” he said. “You won’t even say hi to me, Rin?”

Blood pooled to her cheeks as her heart jumped to life in her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed or guilt-ridden or terrified, or maybe all at once. Her tongue darted over her lips; they were dry, she felt parched despite downing that whole glass. The music that had been playing in the background the whole time suddenly seemed awfully loud.

“I…” Rin squeaked down at her knees. The words were getting stuck in her throat, choking her up, and she had a sudden urge to hurl over the side of the couch. Placing a hand to her mouth, she swallowed, closed her eyes, and reminded herself to breathe. 

His gaze left the side of her face to travel across the room, but he kept talking. “I know you saw me.”

Her fingers curled around the fabric of her dress with a tremble. Tonight, she’d tried for something a little more ambitious, a little more mature; the dress was short and flowy, yellow and floral-lace, it sat high at the base of her neck but dipped down her back, exposing smooth, white skin. 

But around Len, she simply felt like a little girl dressed up in her mother’s clothes.

“I… was waiting for you to say something first,” she rasped out, the words finally untangling from her tongue.

Len’s eyes went back to her. His mouth opened, closed, opened again—the gears were turning in his mind, typing out a script on a typewriter, perfecting every sentence. Finally, he settled for a, “Huh.”

Rin slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes were a dark, stormy blue; they always had been. Mischievous, mysterious, there was always this glint to them, something so familiarly Len. His fingers drummed against the backrest of the couch, playing out some secret melody—perhaps it was a song he played on piano. He liked piano.

Len swept a stray hair away from his face. “It’s been a while since we last talked, Rin,” he said, eyes flickering between her face and the rest of the room. He reached for his drink on the coffee table in front of them and took a sip, before continuing, “Missed ya.”

Heat climbed to her face, and she looked at her own empty glass on the table, willing for it to fill up. “Yeah,” she breathed, unsure if she’d just heard him right.

“Has life been treating you well?” he asked, casual, but she could tell in his mind he was trying to plot a path to lead the conversation somewhere she didn’t want it to go.

Rin traced out the patterns on her sleeve with a finger; following the stem, a leaf, the flower petals… counting them, five… six… “It’s…” Her mouth was as dry as a wall. She swallowed. “It’s… yeah. Good, I guess.”

If Len had noticed how nervous she was, he wasn’t letting on. “That’s nice.”

The silence that followed reminded her of her table manners. “Erm, how—how about you?”

His lips curved, the beginnings of a smile, and his eyes were now focussed on the TV screen. Some romcom was playing. Not that it really mattered—the volume was muted. “It’s been okay. Work is okay. Busy. Could be paid more, but I guess I’ll never really make big money as a composer, hey?”

That reminded her. She didn’t really know what he went on to study in university. _Music, huh_ , she thought. It was a surprise that even his parents had let him go into such a field. 

“I do tutoring on the side, with kids, too,” he added, a wistfulness to his gaze. “It’s a bit of extra pocket money, at least.”

Rin eased back into the couch. “I’m happy to hear you’re… doing something you love.”

“Hmm.” His lips thinned out. “What about you? Go on to be an English major?”

Probably that was what she had told him, the last time they’d talked. They were still in high school. Young. Full of hope. She shook her head, hair bouncing with the movements. “No. I’m just… an office worker. I work for the advertising department of a record label.”

Len raised an eyebrow. “It’s a pity,” he said. “I thought you would be a good teacher.”

She laughed in an exhale. The thought seemed absurd now. She didn’t need to tell him that, though.

“So.” He was staring up at the ceiling now. His fingers were still drumming. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat. Rin could just about predict what was coming next. “So… why did you stop talking to me all those years ago, Rin?”

She could predict it, but she still didn’t know how she would even answer it. That guilty rock returned; sinking down heavy inside of her, weighing her down. The blood in her ears was loud, rushing, almost drowning out the sound of the party around them. 

Somewhere, somehow, her mouth started moving, words spilling out like a pot that’d overboiled. “It’s not that I… it wasn’t… I didn’t _mean_ to…” She took a breath, trying to steady the pounding of her heart. “It’s just… so hard to say.”

Len frowned, not satisfied with her answer. “It’s hard to say,” he echoed, in a tone that showed he didn’t believe in those words as much as he didn’t believe in ghosts. “What, you can’t even tell me what I did to piss you off so bad that you wouldn’t talk to me anymore?”

His question sliced through her like a knife, and she winced. Her arms went to wrap around herself, she curled in, like a turtle retreating into its shell. “It’s not even… that,” she mumbled down to her knees. She felt so pathetic. “You didn’t do anything. It was just… me.”

He blinked at her, not quite comprehending that maybe—possibly—after all these years, after all these years of conjuring up some explanation in his head as to why she suddenly hated him, maybe it _wasn’t_ because he had done anything wrong. “Huh,” he said, and this time, it wasn’t a calculated response.

“I’m just…” Rin hovered, choosing her next words carefully. She smiled at her empty glass on the table, but it was secretly a grimace. “I was just a scared, little girl. Scared of a broken heart.” _And I still am._

Len was silent, processing her words. She needed another drink if this conversation was going to carry on. She reached for her glass and stood, not looking at his face. “I’m going to the bar. You want anything?”

He shook his head. She left him sitting. She did everything within her power, this time, to _not_ run away.

When she returned to take a seat with another glass of _chu-hai_ , Len’s hand lashed out, snapping up her wrist in a firm, yet gentle grasp. He pulled her down beside him, closer, maybe a little too close for comfort.

He smelt of cologne and alcohol and aftershave, and something familiar, something that made her only think, _Len_.

His warm body pressed against hers; she forced herself to sit on the edge of the couch, rather than relax into the empty space right next to him. His expression was unreadable, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He dragged a thumb down the back of her arm, pressing flat in the soft space of her elbow.

No amount of willpower could stop the ripple of goosebumps from breaking out over her skin.

“Rin,” he murmured. “If you were scared of a broken heart, then why did you break mine?”

His question hit her like an avalanche. She sat, facing away from him, her hand still clutching at her drink like a lifeline. _What do you mean, what do you mean_ , she wanted to ask, but even she knew that was a foolish question. She knew what he meant.

Rin placed her drink down on the table next to his, looked back over her shoulder at him. He was slouched back, staring up at her from under dark lashes. A sad smile slowly rose to his lips, dumping a bucket of ice-water over her shoulders.

“Because I was selfish,” she answered him with truth, sounding awfully confident despite the doubt that clouded her mind. Her heart thudded against her rib cage. “I was selfish, only thinking of me, and not you.”

Len sat up, shoulder brushing hers. “You just didn’t think to talk to me about it?” he asked. “Didn’t think to ever reach out and—clear the air, or anything.” His hand fluttered out in front of him, demonstrating the act.

Her heart hurt. Her whole _chest_ hurt, actually. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking away. “I’m sorry.”

Hot tears stung her eyes. She didn’t even understand why she had to cry. She was the fool, here. She had no reason to.

Len’s hand reached for hers—it was large, warm and clammy, wrapped around her own like a blanket. “Rin,” he said, his hot breath hitting the skin of her bare shoulders. “Look at me.”

She shook her head, no. It was embarrassing, shameless, ridiculous. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die. 

His hand went to her thigh as he moved further forward. Before she could even comprehend a single thing he was doing, she felt his lips brush her cheek.

Rin turned to look at him, shocked.

Len hovered near her face, lips twitching upwards. “Don’t break my heart again, Rin Kagamine.”

In one, swift movement, he had her pushed back against the couch; one hand caressing her face, the other resting on her waist. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t fight back. She knew what she wanted. She knew what he wanted.

His lips grazed hers, and the contact almost seared her skin. As he went to pull away, she reached out and pulled him back by the collar, faces colliding. _I won’t let you go this time._

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. They’d grown broader, stronger, with all the time that had passed. A lonely ache filled her chest. With all the time that had passed she spent running away—she could’ve just… been honest?

If she had confessed her feelings to him all those years ago, before drifting apart, would it have changed anything?

 _Yes,_ she thought. _I still needed to grow._

 _I still needed to grow_ up.

Across the room, a weary Miku and proud Kaito watched the pair as they did the tongue tango. Miku reached up to link her arm with her blue-haired companion, the remnants of a smile on her lips.

He leant into her. “This wasn’t really on the agenda, was it?” he asked in a low voice.

“No,” she admitted. “But I’ll gladly take credit for it.”

“You know, he was hanging out for her all these years—and despite knowing that, I’m still surprised.”

Miku chuckled. “I expected a make up. But a make _out_? No.”

Kaito grinned, shifting his gaze to the girl beside him. She was glowing still, always glowing, and he was sure it wasn’t the highlighter she used. “You think we could, uh, maybe follow suit?”

Her hand skated down his arm, before floating up to pinch his cheek somewhat affectionately. The lights in her eyes danced, laughing. “Get a few more drinks in me, sweetie, before you start dropping the pick-up lines.”

Then she strutted off, and he sighed, defeated.

_The heart wants what it wants._

* * *

_Fin_

* * *

(epilogue):

They’d sat on that couch kissing for hours until Miku kicked them out at ten to midnight, telling them to _go home_ with a triumphant expression.

Now they walked down the street toward the station, hand-in-hand, not entirely drunk but enough on the way there that the humid midsummer night didn’t bother them. Rin pressed her cheek against his shoulder; a while ago, maybe it would’ve been the other way around.

“I was a bit of a jerk, admittedly,” Len said.

She lifted her head to scan the side of his face. He stared ahead. She wondered what he was going on about.

“Leading you on, and then dating other girls.” He glanced down at her. “I couldn’t be mad at you, not entirely, for distancing yourself.”

Rin stared at him a moment longer, before lowering her gaze to the curb. “I hated doing it,” she mumbled into his sleeve. “But I told myself at the time it was the best thing to do.”

Len smiled. “We were both kids,” he said, slowing his pace. They stopped near the entrance to the subway station, as if there were a barrier keeping them from going any further. “We didn’t know what we were doing.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He leant down to steal another kiss from her lips; soft, longing. His eyes were filled with something odd, she hadn’t really seen before. Affection?

“My place?” he murmured against her mouth.

“Yeah,” she breathed. Her heart fluttered with child-like excitement.

They kept going, eager to make up for the time they'd lost.


End file.
